


Of Wood and Water

by missmichellebelle



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-14
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2017-12-05 11:08:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/722554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmichellebelle/pseuds/missmichellebelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt raises his hands to the tree, cupping the likeness of Blaine’s face in his palms. It’s rough, so very different from the skin he’s used to touching, but the shape is still there. The curve of a cheek, the bow of lips, the slope of a nose. Kurt stares into Blaine’s eyes, but they’re empty, unmoving, staring back but not seeing him at all. Kurt can hope, though. He can hope that Blaine sees him and hears him.</p><p>"We will fix this, Blaine. We will find a way to fix this. I will find a way to fix this if it’s the last thing I do.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Wood and Water

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this drawing](http://muchacha11.tumblr.com/post/26639387411/so-this-is-for-au-friday-and-the-au-was-fairytale) by muchacha11, and this outlined premise:
> 
> "A village witch is envious of Kurt and Blaine’s love, and merges Blaine into a forest tree. Kurt goes to visit him every day, even if Blaine cannot speak."

Kurt presses his knees to the forest floor, wincing at the way the lingering rain water seeps through his trousers.  _Mind over matter_. Best not to let it bother him.

“It rained last night,” he says, coming knee to knee with the contorted tree. No, not contorted,  _cursed_ , and still beautiful. Always beautiful. “That was probably good for you, wasn’t it?”

He raises his hands to the tree, cupping the likeness of Blaine’s face in his palms. It’s rough, so very different from the skin he’s used to touching, but the shape is still there. The curve of a cheek, the bow of lips, the slope of a nose. Kurt stares into Blaine’s eyes, but they’re empty, unmoving, staring back but not seeing him at all. Kurt can hope, though. He can  _hope_  that Blaine sees him and hears him.

“Well, I always thought your skin looked a little dry. Hopefully we’ll have more rain in the days to come.”

It’s a joke in a situation where jokes are far from appropriate.

He looks down, sighing, and pulls his hands away to clear the moss where it’s gathered at Blaine’s base. Blaine is  _not_  a tree, he is  _not_ , and he will  _not_  get covered in moss if Kurt has any say in the matter.

“She fled,” he says quietly, looking up. “The witch. My father he… But she was gone. Everything gone, as if she had never been there.”

Kurt wishes he could find Blaine’s fingers, wish he could hold his hand, but there are no hands, not anymore.

“He and my brother, and other villagers, they’ve gone to search for her. We will fix this, Blaine. We will find a way to fix this.” Kurt cups Blaine’s cheek again. “ _I_  will find a way to fix this if it’s the last thing I do.”

But, for now, all Kurt can do is be there. He can see Blaine, every day, and keep him company. Maybe Blaine needs it, maybe he’s trapped inside and looking out.

Or maybe he really is just a tree.

Kurt wipes hastily at his eyes. Either way, he will  _not_  cry about this in front of Blaine. He must be strong for the both of them now. He will  _not_  lose hope.

“I brought a book today. I thought maybe we could read awhile.” Kurt turns, pulling the thick volume from his bag before leaning back against Blaine’s trunk. It’s not being held in his arms, nor will it ever compare to the feeling, but it is the only thing he has right now.

“I know how very fond you are of fairy tales,” Kurt says wistfully. Perhaps, perhaps, this will turn into a fairy tale one day. But surely that means they will have their happily ever after.

“Once upon a time…”

*

“You found her?!”

Burt Hummel collapses at their kitchen table heavily, swiping sweat from his brow.

“Aye,” he agrees, quietly, and Kurt looks up as his brother walks in through the door, throwing down his pack.

“W…Where is she?” His excitement drops, eyes shooting between the two men.

“We found her, son, but that creature is a devil. Bringing an evil like that back to the village would have done nothing but doom us all.” Burt looks down at his hands and Kurt feels his stomach sink.

“But… But  _Blaine_.”

“Kurt, we’re lucky she didn’t kill us all.” Finn sets a hand on Kurt’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“So that’s  _it?_  No, no, we  _have_  to break this curse! There… There has to be a way!” He pushes away from Finn, stalking across the room and staring out into the night, out into the forest where Blaine is frozen in time.

“I didn’t say it was a complete loss.”

Kurt turns to look at his father, brushing at the tears that were beginning to gather in his eyes.

“Father,” Finn warns, but Kurt glares at him.

“No, no, if there is a way, I will do it, no matter what the cost.”

Burt is silent, staring at his hands and then he heaves a sigh.

“She spoke of a well. A well that contains magical water said to heal any ailment.”

“Where is it?” Kurt asks immediately, his hope soaring. Any ailment? They could…

“High in the mountains to the east,” Finn finishes, quietly.

Kurt’s hopes fade like smoke.

“T-those mountains are riddled with nightmares,” Kurt whispers, his voice full of fear.

“And the well is heavily guarded, by what the witch would not say,” Finn concludes. “Kurt, you cannot go. It is certain death!”

“So I what? Leave Blaine in the forest? Live out the rest of my days without him? Is that what you’re suggesting, brother?”

“Kurt, I—”

“No. I  _must_  do this.” Kurt looks out the window again, gripping the ring that hangs on the chain around his neck. “I promised Blaine. He was turning to wood and I  _promised_ I would save him.” Kurt turns to look back at his father and his brother and the hopeless looks on their faces. “And I will.”

“Father, you cannot let him do this!”

“I cannot stop him, Finn. Your brother’s heart is set, and all I can do is pray he comes home safely.” Burt stands, making his way to Kurt and pulling him into a hug. “You will tread carefully?”

“As carefully as I can, father, while still succeeding.”

“You never were swayed by reason.” Burt smiles at him fondly.

“I learned from the master.”

“So just like that?” Finn asks, staring between the two of them. “You’ll let him walk to his death?”

“He can go with my good blessing, or he will go without it. I will not send my son into danger thinking that I will not accept him when he comes home.”

“Finn,” Kurt says, turning to him. “I’m going, and you cannot stop me. You  _will not_  stop me. But, if you would, I ask you to go with me.”

Kurt knows he cannot go alone, knows he will certainly die if he does. But he has friends, people he trusts, and there is no one he wants at his side more than his own brother.

“If it means I can keep you safe, then I will.” Finn smiles at Kurt, and Kurt feels relief seep through his body.

“Then be quick. We leave in a day’s time.”

*

“Is it always so dark here?” Finn asks, eyeing the trees above them cautiously as they weave their way through the forest.

“Never summer, always night. Full of death, full of fright.”

“Thank you, Tina. I think we all forgot what we were getting into,” Santana snorts before hacking suddenly at a vine that brushes her shoulder. They all still, looking at it, but it falls to the ground like any regular plant. “What?” She snaps. “I don’t know what sort of freaky stuff is in this forest, okay?”

“I think we’ll be lucky if it’s something as simple as living vines,” Kurt breathes, looking around as they skirt the roots of a large tree.

“Whatever it is, it’s no match for us.” Puck twirls his sword in his fingers.

“Best not to be arrogant,  _Noah_. So far the only thing that’s come up against us were a few bats.”

“Those were  _really_  big bats, Kurt,” Tina reminds him quietly, but he just nods, grimly.

“Should we set up camp for the night?” Finn looks up at the tree cover again, but it’s impossible to tell the real time of day through the darkness.

“You want to  _sleep_  here? Can’t we just find this fountain and  _leave?_ ”

“Of course, Santana. Now that you want to find it, of course we’ll find it so easily. Kurt could have easily done this all on his own.”

“Both of you, stop your bickering!”

Kurt turns on them and they quiet.

“We’ll set up camp for tonight. We’ve been going since daybreak and we could use a few hours rest. We’ll take watch in shifts.” Picking up a handful of pebbles, Kurt throws them across a very small clearing in the trees. He waits a few moments and, when the pebbles don’t sink or do anything strange, he moves forward and sets down his things.

“I’ve never seen Kurt take charge like this,” Puck whispers quietly.

“He loves Blaine,” Tina responds simply. “Would you not do the same if this was your quest?” She stares him down for a moment, before moving forward to join the rest of the group. “I’ll take first watch,” she volunteers.

*

The forest is dead silent, but that only makes it easier for them to hear something. A particular something that is coming closer as Tina forces them out of sleep.

“Something’s coming,” she hisses, and, true enough, they can all hear it. It’s a load rustling, roaring, bone-shaking noise that seems to rumble in the soil beneath their feet.

“We need to move,” Finn says, and they all scramble to their feet.

“We should stay here and fight it,” Puck counters, drawing his sword.

“Fight  _what?_  We have no idea what we’re up against! There is an honorable death and a fool’s death, and I think it’s clear which one you’re about to choose,” Santana snaps. “Sheath your sword.”

He hesitates, looking towards the direction the noise is rushing from. But Puck nods, following her orders.

“What do we do?” Tina asks, as they hurry away from their campsite. They stumble over tree roots, the ground shaking violently beneath them as they make their escape.

“Just keep going!” Kurt whispers back. Their pursuer is loud, but he will not chance it finding them simply by the sound of their voices. Then again, creatures of the night probably do not need the assistance of sound.

“Wait!” Kurt calls, stopping suddenly.

“Kurt, we need to find cover.” Finn grabs his arm, yanking at it, but Kurt shakes him off.

“No, no. We need to build a fire. Quickly. The largest fire we can manage.”

“He’s lost his mind,” Santana states. “We’ll be dead before the first ember ignites.”

“Then I suggest we be quick.” Kurt snaps. “You all had enough faith in me to follow me, so trust me now, I beg of you.”

They all look around and it’s Tina who breaks away, beginning to pull branches and brush from the ground and surrounding trees. It doesn’t take long before they’re all working, building a large pile of tinder.

“Puck, you’re best with this. Start the flame, we’ll continue to bring fuel.”

They’ll need as much as they can find. But it isn’t long before the sound is loud enough to pierce through their heads and invade their thoughts, having them scrambling back towards the trickle of smoke that Puck has managed.

“If any of you have magic, now would be the time to declare yourself a witch,” Puck curses, blowing at the small flame.

“Yes, and if one of us had magic, there would be no need for such a quest,” Santana hisses. Puck frowns but then lets out an exclamation of success when a flame appears.

“Quickly, we must make it as big and bright as possible.” Kurt lights some of the tinder, spreading it around the rest of their fuel until the fire is bigger and bigger, it’s light casting a large glow around all of them.

The sound is deafening now, the ground quaking so hard Kurt is surprised it hasn’t split open. Tina grabs his hand, and he grabs Finn’s, and they wait, breaths caught in their throats as the something moves closer and closer and—

It stops.

Kurt feels a rush of relief fall over him, and he turns, staring at the direction from which they had come. He can’t see anything, but he can hear it. The sniffling, like some sort of creature, skittering about the circle of light they created.

“Incredible,” Tina says in wonder, but she doesn’t inch closer. None of them can see it, but that is probably for the better. They stay quiet until the noises fade and the creature is seemingly gone.

“Kurt…”

He turns to look at Finn, who is staring at him in astonishment.

“How did you know to do that?”

“ _Never summer, always night_ ,” Kurt chants. “If it’s always night, then the nightmares of this forest must be blind in light.”

“Then light will be what saves our lives.”

*

“There it is!” Tina shouts, pointing through a clearing. It’s been days in the forest now, but it’s been surprisingly uneventful. Kurt’s idea with the fire has kept the monsters at bay. Yes, they’ve seen creatures, or rather they’ve seen big hulking ominous shadows. But they didn’t come into the light, not once, and so they had made their way through the forest with handmade torches and cautious steps.

And now, they’re here.

The clearing is light. The trees break and sunlight pours down, bathing the grass. There are wildflowers and dandelions growing in intricate rings. Because they are rings, there’s no doubt about that; nothing in the glade is accidental. In the center is a stone well, but just the stones. No wooden frame, no crank, no pulley, no—

“There’s no bucket,” Finn mutters quietly.

But Kurt continues to walk forward until his palms are laid against stone. It feels like normal stone but at the same time it seems to buzz and vibrate subtly beneath his touch.

“No, there isn’t.”

“We came all this way and no one thought to bring  _rope and a bucket?_ ” Santana snaps.

“Well, normally when you think well, you assume—” Tina begins to say.

“Well, we were stupid to assume then!”

They bicker back and forth but Kurt pays them no mind. He sets down his pack, unbuckles his sword and begins to unlace his boots.

“Hummel, what are you doing?” Puck asks once the girls have calmed down.

“We didn’t come all this way to go back empty handed. I’m going down there.”

“You can’t just climb down a well, Kurt! We have no idea what’s at the bottom!” Finn insists, watching in horror as Kurt pulls rope out of his pack.

“And I never thought this would be easy. If we could just get the water with a bucket then everyone would have this water. It isn’t so simple.” He knots the rope around his waist, clips a vial to his belt and then looks at Finn. “I need you and Puck to be my counterweight. There aren’t any trees or stones I can use.”

“If it means I’ll be able to return you home, so be it,” Finn sighs in resignation.

“You know how much this means to me, don’t you?” Kurt asks, quietly.

“All the world, Kurt. I don’t think any of us ever doubted that.”

Kurt looks around at his friends, closes his eyes and breathes. He hands Finn the other end of the rope, watching as he loops it about both him and Puck. Saying he’s going to plunge himself into the unknown is one thing, but doing it is another. He perches on the edge of the wall, hears Finn’s confirmation that they’re ready, but doesn’t move.

 _I have to_.

He thinks of Blaine. Of the way the wind catches his hair, how his skin bronzes in the sunlight, how his eyes light up whenever they land on Kurt. All of this is for Blaine, and Kurt is not going to fail now.

He’s large enough that he can almost shimmy down the well, hands played on either side, but the walls grow further and further apart the deeper he descends into the darkness. He can’t see anything and he suddenly regrets not carrying a torch with him—who knows what sort of evils dwell down here.

Eventually he has to start repelling, feeling uneasy with every foot of descent as he feels the tension on the other side of the rope. People as counterweights isn’t the best option, but it’s the only one they have. Kurt is more worried about getting back up than he is about getting all the way down.

His foot slips and he screams without meaning to, dropping so quickly he’s sure he’ll die when the rope snaps taut.

“Kurt?”

Finn’s voice is so far away Kurt feels as if he’s miles underwater.

“I’m okay!” He calls back, hears it echo above and below him. He notices then that he can see his hands in the darkness, looks around wildly until he sees a faint white glow below him. He must be close. Kurt continues to lower himself and doesn’t think about the way the rope is sliding over stone and is so liable to snap above him.

The glow becomes brighter and brighter, enveloping him until he almost can’t see. And then he sees it. Water, water, the entire stretch below him is water. It can’t be that simple, it can’t just be him reaching down and scooping it up.

He extends his arm with the vial, gasping as the water seems to sink down just far enough that he can’t reach.

So it isn’t so simple.

But what is he to do? Swim in it? Unknown waters are dangerous. If the woods above lurk with nightmares, there’s nothing saying what kind of creatures dwell below.

The water is silver, like a looking glass, glowing and rippling like it’s a life force all it’s own. Unsure of what to do, he reaches towards it with a single finger. It slips easily into the water, which is warm and pleasant and immediately takes to his finger, swirling about it in a frenzy, sucking, sucking,  _sucking_.

Kurt rips his finger back with a gasp, staring in horror at the water below him. He stares at his finger in wonder, at the brightness of the skin and the sudden lack of callouses. There is no doubt this is the well of which the witch spoke, but the question is how to get the water.

“Could I cup it in my hands and then pour it into the vial?” He wonders aloud, but no. There is no one to hold the vial and no place for him to rest it. He looks around again, astonished when this time he sees a sliver of a shore that had not been there before. A wishful trick of sight? Or a magic luring him to danger?

_What choice do I have?_

He leans his body back, remembering the ways he used to swing as a child, and begins to sway himself like a pendulum. Getting out will be trickier, but he won’t be getting out at all if the water swallows him whole. Getting to the bank is easier than it should be, but it’s becoming too difficult to discern how things should be and how Kurt wishes they would be. Even if he does have ground beneath his feet, can let the rope around his waist slacken, he still has no way to get the water into the vial.

The water doesn’t even lap at the tiny shore, hardly looks like water at all now that Kurt is more level with it. He wonders how deep it goes or if anything dwells inside it.

There’s a sudden noise behind him and he draws his sword so fast he almost loses his balance. It’s not the noise of a nightmare or his imminent death, but a cry of pain. Kurt stares at the gaping cave that was not there before, the water illuminating it as it flows in along a banked pathway. Kurt isn’t a simpleton and knows that the cave is the last place he should be headed.

But what choice does he have?

Sword drawn, he inches along the cavern wall, marveling at the glowing specs of light that seem to hang in the air like fireflies. They’re beautiful.

The cries get louder and… No. No, it can’t be.

“Kurt?”

He nearly drops his sword but grasps it at the last moment, eyes wide as he sees the figure lying in the small pool of water.

“…Blaine?”

*

No. It isn’t possible. Blaine is… Kurt had seen him, still as stone and still a tree days ago. That's the reason he's  _here_ , it’s not… It’s not possible.

“Kurt.”

The word tears Kurt in half. He sounds like he’s in so much pain. The tears well in his eyes before he can stop them, feels himself stepping forward without thinking.

“Kurt,  _please_.”

His sword clatters to the floor of the cave and Kurt rushes forward. Half of Blaine’s body is sucked into the enchanted water and—wait, it’s sucking him in. He sinks quickly to his knees, grabbing at Blaine’s arms and gasping in shock when he feels the tug of the water. Blaine is looking up at him pleadingly and Kurt looks back, feeling a sob escape him. Blaine’s  _eyes_. Kurt has not seen his eyes in so very long.

“I… I’ve got you, I’m going to get you out.” But he can’t find any traction on the stone floor of the cave; his feet keep sliding as he tries to steady himself, as if he’s on ice rather than rock. Blaine’s fingers dig sharply—too sharply, it’s  _painful_ —into Kurt’s arms and his body lurches forward, Blaine’s weight dragging him closer to the water.

“Kurt, help me, please.” 

“I will, I… I came all this way. All this way to save you, Blaine, you’re not getting taken away from me now.” Kurt heaves back but Blaine doesn’t inch any further out of the water. Is this it? He lost Blaine to a curse and now he has to watch his heart and soul sink to the bottom of some magical lake?

“C—can you move your legs at all? Brace them against the edge? Blaine, you have to help me,” Kurt gasps desperately.

“Can’t.” Blaine’s fingers sink deeper and Kurt feels tears prick his eyes at the pain. “Save me.”

 _Can’t?_  Kurt stares at Blaine, really stares at him, and then jerks back, dropping Blaine’s arms. But Blaine doesn’t let go.

“Kurt, what are you doing? You have to save me!”

“No, no. You are  _not_ … You are  _not_  Blaine. Let go of me!”

“What are you talking about? Of course I’m Blaine! Please, you have to hurry!”

“You might  _look_  like Blaine, and you might  _sound_  like Blaine, but you are not my Blaine,” Kurt hisses. He pries Blaine’s fingers from his arms, choking out a sob. They’ve punctured the skin, drawing blood as he pulls them away. He kicks back, as far from Blaine’s reach as he can, and watches as Blaine sinks quickly and disappears into the water.

It’s horrible.

It might not be his Blaine, the Blaine who picks him wildflowers and comes home from the pond with injured ducklings, but it still looks like him. Kurt feels grief tighten in his throat as he watches the person he loves drown, biting his lip to keep himself from crying out in agony.

The water goes still and the cave fills with the noises of Kurt’s rattling breath. He’s bleeding, and badly at that. He doesn’t know what that thing was but it’s fingers were like daggers, making ten small, deep incisions that leave his arms burning. If that thing comes back, he has no idea—

His sword!

Kurt looks up in surprise, sees it not far away and hurries towards it. His arms burn and he knows he won’t last long in a fight, but he won’t be picked off so easily.

 _Water that heals any ailment_.

He stares at it, intrigued. All he has to do is dip his arms in and they’ll be healed. Then he can fight whatever creature tried to kill him.

_But how did it know about Blaine?_

The thought makes Kurt feel sick.

But the creature had gone back into the water. Kurt can’t see into the depths, doesn’t know where it’s hiding. It could be looming right below the surface, ready to drag him in.  _It would make sense for it to be impossible to drown in a water that cures any ailment_. Then again, maybe that’s the horror of it. That sucking feeling in every pore of his being for the rest of eternity, unable to die. He shudders, stepping away from the water.

That still leaves him with no way of attaining the water.

“You’re bleeding.”

Kurt see’s fake Blaine, his head just hovering above the water. It’s eerie, not being able to see the body attached to it, and the sight makes Kurt feel sick.

“I have you to thank for that.”

“You should heal yourself,” fake Blaine insists. It’s hand comes out of the water, and it runs across his skin in beautiful, shining rivulets.

“I’ll live,” Kurt hisses. At least, he hopes so. The punctures are still bleeding and he knows if he doesn’t stop them soon he won’t make it back home to his beloved. He clothes his eyes, whimpering as he tears off the bottom length of his trousers. Not dying is more important than a bit of cloth.

It’s dirty from travel and a horrible thing to wrap a wound in. If only he had some water, he could—

Kurt stares at the water again in interest, fake Blaine watching him as he inches towards the edge of the pool. Kurt watches him, doesn’t know how fast this creature can move, but Blaine doesn’t budge.  _He’s betting on me getting caught by the suction_. Kurt tears the cloth in half, making two long strips and then dipping them in the water as quickly as possible. He's astonished, really, that the water doesn’t reject it the way it had the glass. Then again, if it had, people wouldn’t be pulled into it.

He skitters away quickly, closing his eyes as he tears away the sleeves of his shirt and wraps the soaked clothes around both of his upper arms. He gasps at the feeling; the cloth is warm, burning hot even, but as it soaks into his wounds it feels as if ice is seeping all the way through his body.

“You’re smart,” fake Blaine hisses quietly, slinking back and forth in the water. “Smarter than the others.”

“Smarter than you, you mean,” Kurt bites back, his head thunking against the cave wall. He can feel himself shuddering violently, but he doesn’t feel pain; it’s like a current is running through his body, looking for an escape and finding none. His body jolts forward suddenly and he gasps again, feeling his body slump. He feels  _exhausted_ , but there isn’t any pain. When he peels the cloths away from his arms, there isn’t even blood anymore. Just pure, untarnished skin.

“Stupid,  _pathetic_ ,  _weak_  human. You will die here,” fake Blaine hisses, and the words hurt more than the wounds had.  _It’s not Blaine. It’s_ ** _not_** _Blaine_.

“Poor, lonely, disgusting creature, why don’t you shed your disguise? You’re fooling me no longer.”

The fake Blaine’s face is twisted in a way Kurt has never seen on his Blaine; it’s cruel, horrible,  _evil_ , all of the things that Blaine certainly is not.

 _“It got separated!” Blaine insists, holding the duckling in his cupped hands. “I’m just going to help him find his mamma.” He coos at the duckling and Kurt rolls his eyes fondly_.

Blaine does still have that blasted duck.

“Simple, simple, you are all so very simple, simple creatures. Simple with your useless, useless emotions. Make you  _weak_. Make you  _stupid_. No no no no, whatever face you love is the face you will see. The face that will drag you down to hell.”

 _I should kill it_.

But how can he kill something when he has no idea what it is? He isn’t a warrior, he never has been, and he had gone on this journey knowing he would succeed or die trying.  _I have made it too far to die_. The feeling sits ill with him, leaving this creature behind to lure others to their deaths. Is that how it lives? How it thrives?

“Tell me, creature, since you have no intention of letting me leave, is it the water that keeps you alive?”

“Enchanted water,” it hisses. “Enchanted for humans by humans who look to do good, it does not work on us.”

 _Us?_  For a moment, Kurt feels panic seep through him. Are there  _more?_  But surely it would have called assistance, had others taken on the looks of his father, of his mother, of his friends.

 _It’s just you, you and your sick, twisted mind_.

“Then how do you survive, buried so deep in this hole?”

“Humans are stupid, stupid. Humans want power over death, want answers to every problem. They come here and we feed.”

 _Then I’ll have to stop them from coming here_. It will have to die, eventually. Every creature can starve, be it man or beast or nightmare.

 _One riddle down, but that only leaves the harder one_.

If his skin touches the water, he will die, devoured by some creature disguised as the person he loves most. If he goes at it with the vial, the water will simply move away, repelled by it. The only thing that is not living that can touch it is cloth, and it’s not as if he brought some cloth pouch within which to carry  _water_. That’s absurd, that’s…

It might work.

Kurt grabs one of the squares of fabric, hurrying to the water’s edge. He still watches the creature catuously, but it still doesn't budge. He grabs the two ends of the cloth, dipping it into the water and lifting it, watching… Watching. It slips over the edges, but not through and Kurt wants to cry in joy. Instead, he keeps his face passive. Surely whatever plot the creature is conducting does not include Kurt escaping.

There is something in the world to thank that Kurt carries a needle and thread on him always, and he quickly sets to work, tearing the worn fabric of his clothing into panels to create his satchel.

“Tell me, creature,” Kurt says conversationally. “If you can so easily grab me, why not do so? You have had ample opportunity.”

The way the head moves through the water is  _wrong_  and slinking, as if there are no bones keeping the head upon the body.

“Oh human, stupid, dim human. How fun it is for us to watch you suffer and lose hope, resign yourself to your fate, become such an empty, lovely lovely shell. You will beg for death and we will give it to you.”

Kurt bites the string clean with his teeth, testing the satchel. He’ll be able to cinch it closed with a piece of cloth once it’s full, but it won’t do very much good if the satchel falls sideways or upside-down.

 _It’s the only thing I’ve got and I only get one chance. I have to make it count_.

Kurt stands, hooking his sword to his belt and walking back along the shore. It hasn’t disappeared yet, which is good. Obviously whatever magic controls the water does not belong to the creature.

“Fun, fun, you try to get out, try so hard, and fail, fail, fail.”

Kurt wishes it would change, wishes that Blaine’s face would stop staring at him, taunting him with Blaine’s voice.  _You do not deserve a second of that guise, to don a face that is so far above you that the two worlds should never come to meet_.

He will make sure they never meet again. The rope is still tight around his waist and Kurt can’t help but wonder why the creature has no worry about it. Clearly this is a way to escape, isn’t it? Perhaps for once the creature has been to arrogant to notice something so trivial.

The head follows him in the water as he makes his way out to the larger lake. The water has receded more, showing more of the black and charcoal glistening sand, and Kurt walks slowly along it to the edge of the water. Fake Blaine keeps his distance, eyeing him with amusement, his grin stretched cruel and malicious across a face that is supposed to be kind and compassionate.

 _I may not kill you myself, beast, but I will make sure you die_.

Kurt leans down to the water, dipping the satchel in carefully, letting it fill with water. It’s beautiful, when he pulls it back up, careful not to let it spill as he ties off the top.

“Clever, clever little human, catch the water that is uncatchable and have nowhere to bring it. Clever human, but so hopeless, so lost, we can help you.”

Kurt snorts, tugging on the rope. He doesn’t dare call up, doesn’t want the creature to grab at him. He tugs insistently, wishes he’d devised some sort of signal with his brother and friends so they would know when he was in danger. The rope stays slack and Kurt continues to tug in horror.

“Your friends cannot help you,” the creature mocks, and Kurt stares at it in alarm.

“What did you… What did you  _do?_ ”

“Not me, little human, but  _you_. Leave them all alone, so alone, with terrible dangers, terrible. There is no light above while there is light below.”

 _Oh god_. Kurt tugs at the rope again. No, they have to be there. They have to be alive, they solved how to stave away the darkness, how to—

The rope lurches so suddenly Kurt nearly drops the satchel, the wind pulled from him completely as he’s swept off his feet. The creature stares at him in horror, racing towards his form as Kurt is pulled higher and higher. It screams, an unnatural and shrill noise, staring up at Kurt. He watches as Blaine’s face seems to melt and contort, the creatures mouth unhinging and opening wider and wider in rage until it is too grotesque for him to look any longer.

He cradles the water to his chest, holding it like the precious treasure it is, as he’s swallowed by blackness again.

“Kurt?” Finn calls, and Kurt almost laughs with glee. They’re alive. He’s alive.

And soon Blaine will be, too.

*

“A little warning next time,” Santana jokes as they pull Kurt from the well. “Good thing we had our torches when the lights went out.”

“If I’d known I would have told you.” Kurt collapses to his knees, exhausted, looking over at Finn and Puck as they shake from their exertion. “Are you all okay?”

“Are  _you_  okay?” Tina asks, inching towards him. Kurt winces, looking down at his shredded trousers and shirt.

“I had a bit of a confrontation. I’m fine.”

“What was down there?” Finn asks, still regaining his breath, and Kurt looks at the well and closes his eyes.

“Evil,” he answers, briefly, pulling himself to his feet. “If you had not pulled me up as quickly as you had, I would be dead now.”

”Why did you wait so long?”

Kurt holds up the bag and smiles.

“You got it?” Tina asks in wonder, eyes large and fingers reaching out to touch. Kurt holds it protectively, not wanting to disturb it more than the jerky ascension already had.

“Not easily.” He knows he won’t tell them what the creature had done, how it had taunted him as Blaine. He imagines them each in his place, having a loved one before them; would they have realized in time? Or been taken and eaten by the very person they’d been trying to save?

“We need to close the well,” Kurt says, moving to his feet.

“We need to… Kurt, don’t you understand? This could change everything,” Tina says, grasping his sleeve, but Kurt brushes her off.

“There’s a reason this water isn’t widespread, why you haven’t seen it being sold. Because few have succeeded in obtaining it.” Kurt braces the stone. It’s sturdy beneath his hands, but no mortar holds it together. The pieces are slipped together, perfectly cut to keep them from becoming loose. It certainly won’t be an easy feat.

“So what does destroying the well do? The water won’t disappear,” Puck points out.

“No, but the creature that haunts it will. It… It feeds off the fools who try to take the water and fail. If we can keep people from it, keep it from feeding, maybe in hundreds or thousands of years the demon will die.”

His friends are silent behind him and then a hand is on his shoulder—Finn. They don’t say anything, don’t ask him what it did or how Kurt managed to get away from it.

“Not too attached to that sword of yours, are you?”

Kurt looks at his sword. He hasn’t used it once; it was useless the only time he would have needed it.

_If I’d stabbed him right from the start, would that have been the end of it?_

But maybe that’s why the creature was still alive. Devil or not, Kurt could never stab Blaine.

“Not particularly.” He smiles at his brother and together they wedge the sword between the stones.

*

It’s just after dawn when the village comes into view. The land is streaked with shadows and they're exhausted to their bones, but home is close at hand and they are all eager to be within the safety of familiar walls. Kurt is sure that his friends did not expect him to retire at the end of their journey—after all, it is a quest he had made, and it has finally come to an end. So, in the barely present light of early morning, rooftops and treetops illuminated by the sunrise before them, Kurt sets off at a run.

He knows the path by heart now, avoiding wayward branches and fallen logs and a particularly slippery patch of moss. The light hasn’t touched here yet, is too weak to break through the trees, but it isn’t an evil darkness like the one Kurt recently became wary of.

Kurt doesn’t slow until he's falling on his knees in front of Blaine, the real Blaine, a tree in his exact likeness kneeling in the grass. The moss has grown, Kurt no longer there to keep it at bay, and he carefully begins to remove it, his hands shaking. Tears blur his vision as he works, his shuddering breaths smothered by morning birdsong.

He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do now. When he’d used the water on himself, it had seeped into his wounds. But Blaine has no wounds, just a curse. What does he do? Pour it over him?

Opening the bag with great care, Kurt gathers some of the water onto his finger tips and rubs it along Blaine’s cheek. He waits, watching, but the water just slides along the cracks of bark, useless.

“No, no, no, this is supposed to work,” Kurt whispers, his voice strung with desperation. What else is there? How does he break a curse?

_If Blaine were here, he’d know. He was always better at these things than me… Would tease me about True Love’s Kiss always being the answer and—_

Would that work?

Kurt has nothing to lose, not at this point. His thumb runs carefully along the rough surface of Blaine’s bark until he finds the grooves of what were once Blaine’s lips.

He closes his eyes, strengthening his resolve, before picking up the water and sucking the smallest bit of it into his mouth. It seems to squirm, fighting hard to work, the suction biting into his flesh, and Kurt knows he mustn’t swallow and that he must move quickly.

 _Please let this work_.

Kurt presses his lips to Blaine’s, eyes squeezed tight, and hopes with ever fiber of his  _being_  that he isn’t wrong.

And then the lips beneath his shift, open, and Kurt takes that moment to let the water slide from his mouth and into Blaine’s.

He doesn’t dare open his eyes, but he can feel the change happening. Lips, warm and familiar. His hands, once cupping a wooden face, feel the bark give way to skin and hair. Kurt becomes more desperate, grasping at curls and pulling the face closer still—it moves, no longer stiff, no longer frozen in time.

Kurt knows he’s crying, can feel his throat go thick even as he keeps kissing Blaine. Then hands press to the small of his back and it’s too much. Kurt breaks apart with a gasp, his forehead falling to Blaine’s shoulder—soft, pliant, warm, and he feels the soft press of lips to his temple as hands run up and down his back.

He lifts his head, can feel the tears falling steadily down his cheeks. And there’s Blaine, staring at him intently. For a second, Kurt is struck with the terror of the creature, but it fades. Because Blaine is looking at him the way he always has; like he’s falling in love all over again. He raises a hand, cupping Kurt’s cheek and brushing the tears away with his thumb.

“There you are,” Blaine says quietly and Kurt chokes out a sob, throwing his arms around Blaine’s neck. Blaine catches him, holds him close and whispers soothing sounds, kissing every inch of Kurt his lips can reach.

“I’m sorry,” Kurt sobs into Blaine’s neck. “I didn’t mean to make you wait this long.”

“Don’t apologize. I’m with you now, that’s what matters.” Blaine lifts Kurt’s face and kisses him fiercely.

Every moment of sadness and pain, every lonely night, every one-sided conversation, every  _sorrow_  that Kurt has suffered in all those long weeks is pulled from him in that moment. It’s released into the world, lifted from his shoulders and forgotten in the warmth of Blaine’s embrace.

When they break apart again, a laugh of pure, unrestrained joy escapes Kurt and it makes Blaine smile.

“I love you so much,” Kurt says, earnestly, moving as close as he can get. He already knows they’ll be inseparable for days, weeks even, but that still doesn’t stop his need to be as close to Blaine as possible, to drink in everything about him and memorize it all over again.

“And I love you.” Blaine lifts Kurt’s hand, kissing at the knuckles, and then his eyes go wide. “What happened to you?”

Kurt is wearing torn clothing, is coated in a thin layer of dirt from his travels, and it’s the absolutely last thing on his mind.

“Magical cures come with a price, you know.”

“Was that price your clothing?”

Kurt nudges at Blaine’s shoulder playfully, a thought fluttering through him as his hand connects with bare skin.

“Was the price  _yours?_ ” Kurt asks back, eyes wide and cheeks flushing. Blaine is definitely, one hundred percent, naked. Blaine looks down at himself, blinking owlishly.

“I suppose it was.” He looks up at Kurt, grins, and then grabs his arm and pulls.

“Blaine!”

They tumble to the forest floor amidst giggles and kisses, and for once Kurt doesn’t resent the way the grass feels against his skin or the give of the earth beneath him. For once those things don’t mean loneliness and heart break and yearning. He’s tangled in Blaine, breathing him and the scent of the forest knowing that he has never felt more content than right at that moment.

“If somebody finds us, we’ll be whispered about the village for months,” Kurt says with a smile, brushing curls back out of Blaine’s face.

“I have a feeling the forest isn’t visited often anymore after someone was turned into a tree,” Blaine jokes lightly, but Kurt stills, chewing on his lip. Blaine seems to immediately realize his mistake, reaches to cup Kurt’s cheek again. “Kurt…”

“What was it like?” He asks quietly, gazing up at Blaine. Blaine who is soft and real and everything, everything,  _everything_.

“Like sleeping,” Blaine says in a soft murmur, moving to brush his fingers through Kurt’s hair. “I had this dream, you see, about a beautiful boy who told me fairy tales. And I knew that, at any cost, he would find a way for us to be together.” Blaine smiles, leaning in to press his forehead to Kurt’s.

“And he did.” 

_And they lived happily ever after._


End file.
